One of the few good things about the Sieve was that it made meeting with important people far easier. Under normal circumstances Karma, mortal that she was, would be forced to not only go out of her way to come to whichever powerful individual she was seeking an audience with, but would also be kept waiting upon her arrival. A very obvious, very tedious social ritual which she was no more endeared to now than she had been upon first discovering it close to a decade ago.

With the majority of Bermuda sharing occupancy of the stadium, however, it was no longer possible for most of the Immortals to snub her as they usually would. If nothing else it greased the wheels of her maneuvering, though she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t rather cathartic to forgo the usual half hour of wasted time. In fact it was just about cathartic enough to make up for the persistent ringing in her ears as the hundreds of thousands of morons sat all around shrieked their lungs out everytime something even remotely interesting happened. Granted where she was currently, walking through the relatively deserted reserved section, was far more tolerable than most areas- the thick walls cushioning much of the noise. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t unpleasant.

For the briefest moment she was glad that her bodyguards were what they were. Kin may have been unsettling and stifling, but they were also decidedly unchatty. This silent nature of theirs meant that there was no conversation to be drowned out by their surroundings. Granted it also meant that Karma had nobody to speak to for the many hours she spent flitting from one luminary to another. Still, it was important to count what blessings came her way. Being among the most privileged people on the planet was also another little bonus for her to enjoy.

There was a slight uptake in the volume of the distant cheering, and Karma couldn’t help but glance at her personal scrying slate. Approximately a foot long and two thirds as wide, it's more convenient size made it far more expensive than even the already rare scaled-up versions. Thankfully one of the many benefits of being heir to the second largest Empire in existence was that expenditure on the scale of individual items wasn’t something Karma needed to consider. If it had been she might have found herself annoyed at the diminished quality of its image.

This scrying slate was used for communication with her spies and other contacts, however she had also temporarily had it linked to the same network responsible for the monitoring of the Sieve. What she saw appear on the smooth surface of the slate was a source of immediate annoyance to her. Gem was using her anti magic, that was good. What was decidedly not good was the fact that she had hesitated even a moment to do so against someone as strong as her opponent. When Karma got her hands on that girl….

No, she didn’t have time for anger. Karma inhaled deeply, forcing her rising temper back down into that little space at the back of her mind and dismissing the image on her slate with a thought. Back straightened, she picked up her pace. It was not five minutes later that she reached the entrance to the Immortal’s seating area. The drowsy-looking receptionist didn’t bother to ask her name, inquiring instead as to her business.

“I’m here to see a certain Immortal, he should be in booth eighteen. A Demigod, if that helps.”

There was an almost imperceptible tremor on the receptionist’s face when Karma mentioned the scale of her appointment. Of all the world’s active Immortals, less than fifty had been confirmed to occupy that level of magical prowess. Demigods were second only to Deities, even in an event such as this there wouldn’t be too many.

The desk between them looked expensive enough to feed a large family for several months, as did the carpet leading into the area it served as a reception for. This gave the whole section, and by extension the one left in charge of it, an air of palpable severity and esteem. It was all bullshit, of course. Anyone who moved in the same circles as the occupants of this part of the stadium would be about as intimidated as a king would by a peasant wearing his least shit-stained tunic. It was for that reason that when the receptionist broke the illusion by stammering his reply, Karma was not even the slightest bit surprised.

“A-and what would the name of the one with w-who-whom y-you have an app-ppointment b-be?”

Resisting the urge to inquire as to exactly how many Demigods they had sharing booth fucking eighteen, instead forcing on her warmest smile in the hopes that it would soothe the man before her and take care of that irritating stammer.

“Are you quite sure I need to tell you his name? I can’t imagine there are more than…”

Karma did a quick tally in her head of those Demigods who would be most likely to attend, then adjusted to leave only those who had less than a hundred better things to do.

“Three. Certainly no more than one staying in that particular booth.”

She tried to make light of it by widening her smile and feigning a suppressed giggle. In reality her reasoning for not wanting to say the man’s name was… well, perhaps rather silly. Still it was something she would avoid if she could. Unfortunately it appeared the backbone of the receptionist was composed of more than a single vertebra.

“I’m s-sorry m-La… Princess?”

She nodded slightly to let him know he’d gotten the correct title. He continued.

“I’m sorry Princess, but it’s pr-procedure. I must insist.”

Karma bristled slightly, then with an inward sigh resigned herself. It seemed there was no getting around it.

“Very well. My appointment is with a…. Bob. Bob Danielz.”

She was rather glad of her Olympian complexion at that moment, had her face the pallor of Pangaea the slight blush that came upon it as she attributed such a shockingly mundane name to a Demigod would have been quite visible. In this case, however, she needn’t have felt the slightest bit self conscious, as the receptionist took the name as seriously as a death threat from a vampire.

“V-very good P-Princess, please go in now. Take the corridor straight down, the doors are all numbered.”

Karma thanked him politely, beginning on her way. Her bodyguards followed silently behind her, the only indication that they had moved at all was the sudden jumping of the receptionist. They tended to have that effect on people, their unnatural stillness at rest making any motion they made quite distressing.

The air was thick as she walked down the hallway. Despite having enough room to walk side by side with both of her bodyguards had she felt so inclined, there was an uncanny sense of confinement. She knew what it was, or more specifically what its cause was. Unlike the cheaper areas of the stadium, where the air was filled with the smell of sweat and spilled drinks, this pristine section’s impossibly stuffy atmosphere was filled with magic. There were only a few hundred individuals seated within the booths around her, and yet the combined magical power they radiated would have convinced anyone capable of sensing it that they numbered in the tens of thousands. Walking in the midst of such people, even when separated from them by walls and doors, was an extremely unsettling experience, even for one not far from joining their ranks such as Karma.

It took around two minutes to reach the eighteenth door, each one being some ten metres apart. As she drew up to it, Karma briefly paused. She was unsure which greeting would be most appreciated by the man within, come to think of it she was unsure on practically everything about him. She’d negotiated with mystics from many different nations, some from nations that had not survived as long as they themselves had, and yet making an acquaintance of a butcher was an entirely new experience to her.

In the end she opted to simply knock.

There was a brief pause, too short to show deliberately feigned eagerness and too long to show similarly falsified indifference. At its end she heard a gruff, coarse voice ring out from within the room.

“Come in.”

There was another pause, this time of Karma’s making. She wasn’t sure what would be waiting for her on the other side. Stories claimed butchers had eyes blacker than darkness itself.

Others that they were fifteen feet tall and their every exhalation spread decay and death. Shaking her head slightly as though to rock free the outlandish myths, she shifted her scrying slate to a one-handed grip and opened the door.

As Karma stepped into the boothe, the first thing she noticed was the laughable state of it. Five meters deep and twice as wide, it was designed to house more people than would feasibly be necessary. There was a sofa located in the middle, with a table on either side of it holding what she imagined was extremely expensive drinks.

That sofa had been dragged closer to the scrying slate located at the front, the fact that it had been bolted to the floor apparently not dissuading the culprit at all based on the torn metal lying in its wake. One of the tables had been carried along after it, the other had simply been left where it was. Both were nearly empty of alcohol, the premium wines, whiskies and whatever else having been drained from their bottles which now lay strewn all around.

Lounging in the centre of the now stained and disheveled sofa was quite possibly the ugliest man Karma had ever seen in her life. His skin was leathery and bristled, as though he had a habit of shaving using fire, and practically every inch of what she could see was covered in scars. He wore the clothing of a commoner, simple and loose fitting garbs which left part of his heavily muscled arms exposed. Had she not known who and what he was she may have mistaken him for a common thug, though the fact that he was giving off enough magic to nearly suffocate her would surely have destroyed this illusion.

The second thing Karma noticed was the metallic, rancid stench assailing her nostrils. She knew it well, it was the smell of blood. And as she turned to the left of her, staring at the corner on the opposite side of the room as the entrance, she saw the source.

A corpse. Male, judging by the clothing. Though it was hard to tell as the head was missing. A smear of blood was between it and the sofa, as well as spatterings of brain and what she could clearly see were fragments of bone. Her Eye of Analysis strain had, it seemed, activated the moment she spotted the body, and of course it quickly worked to take in the information before it. Combined with an ocular ability she had developed to sharpen her visual prowess and allow her to see through certain surfaces, there was little Karma couldn’t learn from a glance.

“Alrigh’ there sweetheart, are ye Karma Alabaster?”

Her head shot around as she stared at the voice’s source, almost surprised to see the ugly man sitting exactly where he had when she’d walked in. Stifling her rising shock and forcing herself to regain her composure, she answered him.

“Yes, I am. I take it you are Bob Danielz?”

The ugly man got to his feet, the simple motion somehow having a predatory air about it. He walked across the room and stopped a metre in front of Karma, grinning widely and revealing a row of jagged yellow teeth as he replied.

“That I am luv.”

He wore a pair of spectacles, however with darkened lenses nearly twice as large as normal. This curious piece of apparel completely obscured the butcher’s eyes, and so Karma could not tell if they truly were blacker than darkness or not. She considered using her visual enhancement to see through them but decided against it. If a Demigod butcher had decided to keep his eyes covered it was most likely a wise decision not to pry.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Karma had to force herself to keep up the pleasantries, something about the man before her gave her the overwhelming urge to abandon them and run for her life. She glanced back to the corpse in the corner, considering whether to ask about it or not. She was saved the trouble of deciding.

“Oh, ye wanna know wha’ ‘appened wi’ tha’ bloke?”

The butcher’s gutteral accent went very well with his voice, however it made him hard to understand. After a second of deciphering his speech Karma could think of no reply more eloquent than a shaky nod. This seemed to amuse Danielz greatly, as his grin widened even further.

“No idea meself, if I’m bein’ honest. ‘E was ‘ere when I woke up. Best guess is ‘e tried te kill me while I was ‘avin a nap.”

Danielz spoke of both his own attempted assassination and the gruesome death of that assassin so freely that it took Karma a second to fully grasp the implication of what he had said. She blinked, glancing around the room once more to ensure there was nobody else there. Aside from the Kin, who had now taken the tense stance they always did when staring down a potential threat, they were alone. It seemed this butcher had a rather violent precaution in place to ward off sneak attacks.

“I see.” Karma forced a smile. “Well I’m terribly sorry you had to deal with something so unpleasant, I hope your remaining time here is enjoyable.”

Danielz didn’t say anything, apparently not feeling the same pull to continue the pleasantries that most did. That suited Karma just fine.

“Very well then. May I sit down? I dislike performing my business standing.”

He answered with a nod, turning and walking back to the sofa. Karma would have liked to sit down in one of the large padded chairs next to it, but sadly they were now several metres behind and she was not inclined to further the butcher’s spree of vandalism. Instead she planted herself down on the opposite end as him.

“So what exactly is it that you called me here to discuss?”

The butcher didn’t answer immediately, choosing to prioritise seizing one of the few unopened bottles of wine. Rather than simply uncork it, he lazily flicked the top- his fingertip shattering the glass and leaving a relatively smooth hole from which he took a large gulp. It was only after the bottle’s contents had been lessened by a third that he pulled it from his mouth to speak.

“I’m ‘ere on work. Normally this sort’ve thing isn’t somethin’ I’d consider anyone’s business but me own, bu’ I reckoned ye’d be quite interested in what it is this time.”

Karma didn’t answer, choosing to throw Danielz’s silence back in his face. He didn’t seem phased as he carried on.

“A certain someone hired me te serve as security. I’m guessin’ I don’t need te spell out exactly why fer a clever girl like you.”

It was hard to keep the shock from her face. Danielz was right. There were very few individuals who could afford to hire a Demigod such as himself, and even fewer who would choose to do so in addition to the security already present at the Sieve. There were precious few threats which could incur such a course of action.

“So this certain someone, I presume an Immortal, is worried about the God Hunter?”

Danielz took another swig from his bottle.

“That they are. I can’t tell ye who, bu’ I reckon ye’ll figure it out before long. Anyway, I just wanted te let ye know what I was doin’ ‘ere. Normally people don’t react too well te my sort showin’ up when they don’ know why.”

He downed the rest of his drink, seeming no more drunk afterwards, and continued nonchalantly.

“Particularly when my sort ends up killin’ as part of our business.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, giving it an icy edge. Karma soldiered on regardless.

“I see… well, if you see fit to dispose of a few….” she resisted glancing at the corpse in the corner. “...Undesirables, then that is your prerogative as an agent of the Unixian Alliance. Though, as one of the organisers for this year’s Sieve, I will not allow you to interfere with its runnings, nor target anyone of.... Significance.”

The butcher’s smile dropped slightly, his jaw tightening. His next words carried with them the strangest sensation, like the hot breath of a great monster against the back of Karma’s neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry luv I think ye got the wrong idea. I’m not askin’ fer permission. I’m jus’ tellin’ ye what I migh’ ‘ave te do, as a bit of warnin’ so yer ready te clean up afterwards.”

There were a million things Karma wanted to do at that moment. She wanted to run, she wanted to scream, she wanted to fight. And yet each action was killed before it could begin. This man, this creature, had something about him that told her every word he said was both entirely truthful and far from the extent of his capabilities. This was a butcher indeed. And so instead of succumbing to her natural survival instincts, she felt inclined to respond to him in kind. She dropped her false smile, letting her eyes harden with the contempt she’d been keeping to herself all along.

“I think you are severely underestimating the extent of your political immunity, Mister Danielz.”

The butcher’s grin was back.

“Oh I’m not a Lord, luv. Jus’ good enough in a fight that the powers that be reckon it’s less trouble to give me the run of the place.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, Karma staring into her own eyes as they were reflected by the darkened lenses of the butcher’s spectacles. And then she was on her feet, smile back on and posture stiffened with the same anxiety he’d forced into the back of her mind the moment she saw him.

“Well then, I appreciate your attempts at diplomacy, however misguided they may have been.”

She turned to leave, the Kin moving to follow her. They had taken only two steps to the door when the sneering growl that was Danielz’s voice reached her ears, bringing her to a halt as though she had been seized physically.

“Oh by the way, jus’ thought ye might want te know one other thing. I’m not alone.”

Karma spun, wide-eyed despite herself and staring the butcher down.

“What?”

She couldn’t keep the frantic note from her voice, and yet he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m ‘ere wi’ a few lads from the Butchery. Not a lot, mind, jus’ some drinkin’ mates a’ mine. Six or so. I’ll tell ‘em te keep their ‘eads down an’ avoid trouble, after all I doubt ye want te spend all yer time takin’ care a’ killins, but… well, ye know us butchers eh?”

He seemed almost amused at the thought of his brethren painting Bermuda’s streets red, but then a man like him probably was. Karma carefully reigned in her urge to storm over and punch him as she answered.

“Thank you for telling me then, Mister Danielz. I don’t suppose you have any more surprises for me? Since I’m already here.”

She had expected another toothy sneer and a shake of the head. What she got instead, however, was far more sinister. A nod.

“Oh, now tha’ ye mention it there is one thing. One a’ the butchers I brought wi’ me… they’re competin’ in the Sieve.”